


It Always Leads To You In My Hometown

by pearlydewdrop



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: (for now anyway...we'll see how long I can keep the angst up!), Angst, Broken Engagement, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Dysfunctional Relationships, Everything Hurts, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Inspired by 'Made in Belfast' and Taylor Swift's new album, Miscommunication, Mistakes, Writers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 16:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlydewdrop/pseuds/pearlydewdrop
Summary: Erin Quinn, for all her highfalutin' bravado, had turned out to be a one hit wonder...a one hit wonder with a single crackin' tune that had never been entirely hers to sing.In hindsight, she should have known that there was only so far she could have run. The past always catches up at some point, no matter how long the game of hide and seek is drawn out.
Relationships: Clare Devlin/Michelle Mallon, James Maguire & Orla McCool, James Maguire/Erin Quinn, The Friendship Between All Five Derry Girls
Comments: 27
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

_**2013** _

Shutting her eyes for just a moment, Erin could almost replace the smooth and insistent hush of the Paris Métro in motion with the barge and jostle of the Ulster Bus lurching over potholes on the road from Derry to Coleraine. 

In her mind, she could swap the Seine's sparkle for the rush and bubble of the river Foyle and the glamorous Champs-Élysées for the the comforting sight of the Free Derry corner appearing just out of sight. 

Enya's ' _Caribbean Blue_ ' filled her ears through the wires of her headphones, cutting her off from the world around her. 

It let Erin live, if only for a little while, in her own wee bubble. 

In a heartbeat, she would have exchanged the once exciting and exotic chatter of her fellow commuters for the familiar lilt of her hometown's accent. 

For now though, Erin was determinded to get to the end of her working day in one piece. 

Breaking down would surely have to wait until later...or at least until she had arrived safely back on Northern Irish soil for the first time in almost a decade. 

Erin blinked back tears, still processing her Ma's phonecall from earlier that morning. It had been a summons home, one she hadn't been preparing herself for or expecting. 

Her Granda. He was...

Letting out a shaky breath, Erin tried to ignore the painful mixture of grief, regret and homesickness that gnawed feverishly at the pit of her stomach.

The loss of her grandfather was made only worse by how much she genuinely dreaded the thought of returning to the city where she had grown up, the city that had shaped so much of the person she had become. 

On the whole, her family had genuinely tried to understand Erin's reasons for steering well clear of Derry over the last number of years. 

Her Da, perhaps, had understood best of all. He was good that way. 

The reminders of Erin's questionable choices were constant, blatant and relentless, even if she hadn't been the only one at fault in hindsight.

 _(_ _At least, in Erin's own mind...)_

Despite the pomp and circumstane of her stubbornness, Mary Quinn was more than aware of the passing glares thrown in her family's direction from the Mallon pew at Sunday mass.

In contrast to his daughter and son-in-law's behaviour, Joe McCool had openly disregarded the various ugly rumours knocking about...a load of balls, in his opinion. 

He wouldn't stand to have a bad word said about his eldest granddaughter by any living soul, or at least not by one who wanted to remain living. 

Right up until the day he died, Joe had voiced absolutely nothing but pride for the coming of age novel that had been lining the shelves of shops both far and wide for quite some time. 

But then, Joe had never found out just how close the tales of Emma, John, Ciara, Michaela and Olivia's youthful escapades had come to the truth of what had gone down between the once inseparable gang...

Anything that sounded even vaguely familiar? Ah sure, that was only by pure coincidence! 

Erin sighed deeply, rubbing at the dull and throbbing headache forming at the crease between her eyebrows. 

As difficult as it might be to believe, there had been a time when Paris had seemed like a good idea. 

In her head Erin could have even likened her self-imposed exile to that of Joyce or Beckett...but even she knew that her last few books had been complete and utter scutter.

_Finnegan's Wake, her hole!_

Erin Quinn, for all her highfalutin' bravado, had turned out to be a one hit wonder...a one hit wonder with a single crackin' tune that had never been entirely hers to sing. 

With the usual measure of shame, she wondered what her Granda would have said to that...

Raking her upper teeth across her bottom lip, Erin fiddled with the engagement ring still hanging on a chain around her neck. Unable to part with it, it had occupied the space over her heart for more than double the length of time that it had spent on her finger. 

James had left it with her the morning she'd left him, their paths diverging and their hearts heavy.

Erin dreaded the thought of seeing him again...almost as much _(maybe even more! )_ than she dreaded seeing Michelle and Clare which was _definitely_ saying something. 

Christ, this was going to be a hard few days...the absolute hardest!

Erin should have always known that there was only so far she could have run.

The past always catches up at some point, no matter how long the game of hide and seek is drawn out. Looking back, the mistakes she'd made in Derry were damn near impossible to escape...

_..._

_I parkеd my car right between the Methodist_   
_And thе school that used to be ours_   
_The holidays linger like bad perfume_   
_You can run, but only so far_   
_I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave_   
_But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me_

_~Taylor Swift, 'Tis the Damn Season._

_..._


	2. Chapter 2

_**2013** _

James's decision to remain a permanent fixture in Derry life had undoubtedly raised a few eyebrows over the years. 

Needless to say though, he'd fallen hard for the place...

Derry had become as much a part of him as it would have been if he was born there and, after nineteen years, it felt more familiar and more like home than London had ever been. 

James loved the sense of community and the understanding that there was no need for an explanation because everyone already knew your business. Derry was a city that had seen decades of pain and violence but somehow it's residents just kept on going. They carried on with their lives, recovering together little by little over time. Not a bother. All in a day's work...

As he made his way up Ferryquay Street, James's thoughts were still with Joe McCool. A phonecall from Michelle in the early hours of the morning had confirmed the news, the news that they'd all been expecting for the past week and more. Even still, it didn't make any of it any easier...

As James unlocked the door of the Tír na nÓg Art Gallery, he had his attention drawn to the light that had been turned on in the studio out back.

The door was thrown open and Orla stood firmly before a canvas and a folding easel in a pair of old paint splattered dungarees. 

Dark circles beneath her eyes and her wolly hair tossed and frazzled, she didn't even look up as James approached her carefully. Streaks of green, yellow and orange dotted her nose and cheeks...clearly she'd been rubbing at her still blotchy face with her paint smeared hands. 

"You didn't have to come in today, Orla", he began softly, entering her studio. The walls were covered with paintings she'd found too personal to sell over the last few years and James had a hunch that whatever Orla had been working on that morning would likely be joining their ranks. After almost four years of running a business with her, he'd become quite a good judge of that. 

"I could have managed on my own..." 

Despite their vastly differing personalities, James and Orla had always had a good understanding of one another. It was an understanding likely born from the shared experience of having originally joined their childhood and teenaged friend group as tag-along first cousins before something, somewhere, had unexplainably stuck and rendered their presence a longlasting and much loved one. 

Orla blinked owlishly, acknowledging that he had spoken but seemingly choose not to say anything in response for a few moments. 

Her silence almost reminded James of the hours they'd spent sitting together in his tiny-arse apartment after Erin had first left, both of them heartbroken and confused.

At the time, they'd been determined that things could have been patched up if everyone just had the sense of mind to calm down. Now, well...that ship had probably sailed. 

"Jus' wanted to...couldn't sleep", Orla mumbled after quite some time. She set her paint brush aside, regarding him properly for the first time. 

"Why're ya here?" 

James shrugged, feeling at a loss of what to say.

"I suppose I thought I should come in to sort a few things out. You know, since we'll be closed for the rest of the week. Joe wouldn't have wanted to see some art-nut trying to swindle you out of your hard earned cash when you were off guard, would he?" 

Orla smiled vaguely at the comment, her eyes watering a bit at the mention of her beloved Granda. She wasn't usually a crier. 

"Thanks, James. That's class of yeh..." 

He nodded, sharing in her humourless smile and gesturing vaguely to the canvas she'd been working on.

"Do I get to see it?"

Orla seemed torn by the question for a split second but then nodded resolutely. James joined her at the other side of the easel, his eyes coming to rest on the canvas. 

His friend had clearly brought to life a scene that he immediately assumed was from her early childhood.

With warm tones and gentle brushstrokes, it featured a much younger and much less grumpy looking Joe McCool than James could ever remember and a blonde haired woman that he had only ever seen in photographs over the Quinn's fireplace. 

Orla's grandmother reminded him a lot of Mary...Erin too. 

"He taught me a lot", James offered softly, thinking of Joe. He wrapped a comforting arm around Orla's shoulders, adamant to be there for his best friend...the woman who practically felt like a younger sister to him.

"He was a great man." 

Orla sniffled, nodding in agreement before nestling her paint covered chin into his shoulder. Neither of them paid much notice to the stains left behind on his suit jacket. 

"He was, aye. The absolute best..."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently playing around with multichapter ideas what with 'Back For Good' on the home stretch. Let me know what you think of this one. Worth another few chapters?


End file.
